And None Else Beside Me
by mokatster
Summary: AU. The Queen of Narnia sends her heir to investigate troubling reports near Lantern Waste.
1. Playing Judas

**And None Else Beside Me**

**by: mokatster**

**Summary: **AU. The Queen of Narnia sends her heir to investigate troubling reports near Lantern Waste.

** ** ** ** ** **

"Why me?"

The moment the words slipped past his lips, he regretted them. The Queen's eyes flashed dangerously, and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the arms of her throne convulsively. The Prince had to muster all his self-control to keep from stepping back. Even after living with her for all this time, the Queen still frightened him more than anyone else ever could.

He knew she knew it, too.

"I apologize, your Majesty," he murmured, lowering his eyes contritely to the stark floor. He didn't feel shame at questioning her so much as disgust that he was forced to ask forgiveness. A Prince shouldn't have to be made to grovel like a disobedient slave. "I am merely curious as to the change in procedure. The last time it was just the Pack that was sent."

"They clearly did not do their job," the Queen said coldly, and her voice rang throughout the hall. "This threat needs to be eliminated, not merely driven away." She leaned forward, and the intensity of her gaze sent an involuntary shiver up the Prince's spine. Though it was difficult, he forced himself to look directly back into her eyes. "You know them best, Prince. You are the only one with sufficient knowledge to handle this." She paused, and the Prince straightened automatically as she considered him. His self-disgust intensified. Even now, knowing who and what the Queen was, he still had some perverted desire to please her.

"Don't disappoint me, Son," she said, as if she had read this last thought. She stroked the crystal tip of her scepter with her long, white fingers. "I know you hate to see me disappointed."

The threat underlying her words was unmistakable.

The Prince bowed wordlessly and left the throne room, his cloak swishing behind him. He would head to the stables for a mount and then to the Pack's dens to assemble his guard. He would send for several days' worth of provisions; even though a reindeer could bear him to Lantern Waste within hours, the rebels could prove hard to locate.

The Prince tried hard to focus solely on the preparatory details the better to ignore the way his heartbeat quickened and his stomach clenched when he thought of his objective. The Queen had said that only he had the necessary knowledge to eliminate the rebel threat. She had said nothing of his ability.

Was she expecting him to fail?

Icy prickles of fear clawed at his insides. He knew what failure meant. He would _not_ allow that to happen. He steeled himself, allowing his face to settle into a scowl. He hated the rebels as much as he ever had. He would demonstrate that by ridding Narnia of their menacing dissent forever. His stride quickened in determination and he pushed his remaining doubts to the back of his mind, where they would hopefully stay.

************

It was snowing again.

The woods near Lantern Waste were as silent and desolate as ever, the thick blanket of snow serving only to further muffle and suppress any signs of life. The Prince had sent several of the Pack to scout at key points throughout the forest; he himself had been skulking in the trees near the Lamppost for several hours. This was where they had always appeared. But the snowflakes now drifting through the air were the only signs of movement the Prince had seen.

He bit back a growl of frustration. Where _were_ they? The Queen's intelligence was never wrong. Those who sent the reports were well aware of the cost of transmitting misinformation.

A sound reached his ears and he froze, feeling all the muscles of his body tense. His hand gripped the handle of the dagger he always kept strapped to his thigh.

A young man had emerged from the trees and was now was creaking and crunching his way to the Lamppost. He was dressed in a type of clothing the Prince found oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place where such a style could have originated. The Prince watched the man through narrowed eyes as he struggled to the Lamppost and stopped within the pool of light cast by the flickering flame. The man did not lean against the post but stood erect, his muscles tensed as if he knew he was being watched.

The Prince smirked to himself. He began to creep slowly toward the man, his boots making no sound on the freshly fallen snow. He had the Queen's ability to move silently in wintry weather, with no betraying crunch of ice under his feet.

So far, so good. The man still didn't turn.

Quick as a flash, the Prince drew his dagger and leapt at the man. Setting the steel against his ribs, he threw his other arm around his neck. If the man so much as moved, he would either be stabbed or strangled.

The man stiffened, but didn't otherwise struggle or cry out.

"Is it you?" the man breathed.

The Prince tightened the arm around the man's neck in response. "Are you crazy?" he hissed into his ear. "Why did you come back?"

The man didn't respond, and it wasn't because the Prince was cutting off his air supply.

The Prince growled in frustration, resisting the urge to shove the man headlong into the nearest snowdrift. "What part of 'she'll kill you if you come back' didn't you understand? According to the chief, those were the exact words he said to you. He paid a high price for letting you go, I might add. His pelt now adorns her Majesty's throne."

The man sighed, his breath hanging before him in a frozen cloud.

"How long has it been? Since I was last here?"

The Prince frowned. What difference did that make? "I dunno. Years. The Queen is patient. She'll wait until she has all of you."

The man shifted and the Prince released him, sheathing his dagger and dropping his arm down to his side. The man turned to face him, and the Prince found himself staring at his snowy boots in order to avoid that piercing gaze.

Strange, that he should feel just as unnerved in the presence of this rebel as he did with the Queen.

The man scrutinized him for a few moments.

"Why don't you come back with us?"

The Prince barked out a laugh to cover the shock he felt at the question. Why should they want him back?

"Are you insane? I'm on _Her_ side now. I can't just go back." But even as the words left him, he wished they weren't true. He wished it could be different, that he could escape from the icy grip of Narnia's despised Queen. But her hold on him was strong; there was no way to break free. She had made promises to him, and he to her.

The man shook his head sadly. "You could, you know. If you really wanted to."

The Prince looked up, trying to ignore the combination of grief and tentative hope in the man's eyes. He tried to fight against the wave of yearning that rose in his chest. Oh, he wanted to go back. He wanted to go back _so much_. But he had made his choice a long time ago. No matter how much he wished to turn back the clock, to do it all again, he was stuck with the cards he had dealt himself. He had to live with the consequences, no matter how much pain they caused him.

It was no less than he deserved.

The Prince considered the rebel as the two of them stood in silence. He was different; an air of nobility hung about him that had not been there before.

Or maybe it had always been there, and he had just never noticed.

"You should go, Peter," Edmund sighed. "Take the girls with you. None of you should have come back. I—" He swallowed. "I have to stay here."

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but then froze, his fear-widened eyes looking at something over Edmund's shoulder. The Prince whirled around to see the Queen Jadis, standing in the snow behind him with her wand upraised.

"No!"

Edmund turned back to his brother to push him out of the way, behind a tree or something, but Peter was gone. His hands were pushing fruitlessly against a stone statue of a terrified young man.

"NO!"

"Did you think I wouldn't realize who was behind this?" Jadis hissed, stepping menacingly toward him. "Did you think I wouldn't know who was helping the rebels escape?" Edmund retreated hastily until his back hit the Lamppost. He scrambled around it, ducking behind the statue that had been his brother. It was over. There was no hiding from her.

She moved around the statue and stopped directly beside him, the proximity of her towering figure sending a thrill of terror throughout his body.

"You promised me!" he shouted. He knew it was over, knew it was hopeless to protest, but his mouth seemed to have no connection to the reasoning centers of his brain. This was his last hope—to hold her to her promises as he was held to his. "You said I would be a prince! That one day I would rule Narnia!"

"You are a fool," the Queen spat. "I used you to destroy the Prophecy that would have me destroyed. You think I would let you rule? You are deluded. I am Queen of Narnia, and none else beside me."

She brought her wand down sharply, casting him into darkness.

************

A/N: This is the result of the winter blues that always catch me at this point in the year. Do I think this scenario likely? Not really. But the story begged to be told and I obliged.

I got the idea for the title when I was reading the King James Bible for my English homework. Isaiah 47:10: "For thou hast trusted in thy wickedness: thou hast said, None seeth me. Thy wisdom and thy knowledge, it hath perverted thee; and thou hast said in thine heart, I am, and none else beside me."

Also, the bit where Edmund noticed an "air of nobility" hanging about Peter I'm pretty sure is not entirely mine. But I've read so many Narnia fanfictions, I couldn't say where I got it from. If it's an exact phrase snatched from your story, my apologies. If you happen to read this, please let me know so I can give you the credit. :)

Thanks for reading!


	2. Rebel Rabble

**And None Else Beside Me**

**by: mokatster**

_Chapter Two: Rebel Rabble_

A/N: Blame **rth** for this one. I wasn't planning on continuing this at all, but she got the wheels turning. :)

Also, please keep in mind that this is AU.

* * *

"Hurry!"

Her voice was loud and harsh as it burst from her throat only to be promptly muffled by the surrounding, suffocating snowdrifts. There was no response from her little sister, either vocal or physical.

"Come on, Lucy!" Susan urged as she tugged on her sister's hand, plowing as best she could through the powdery, knee-deep snow. She swiped impatiently at her face; the snow blanketing the ground was nuisance enough, but the snowflakes swirling through the air kept getting in her eyes. "Those howls were really close!"

"I'm _trying_," Lucy moaned in a tone just short of whining as she floundered through the drifts after Susan, dragging her twisted leg. Noticing how much Lucy was struggling, Susan mentally chastised herself. Her crippled sister didn't need any more reminders of the Wolves' brutality.

"You're doing fine," she said encouragingly, softening her tone. "We're almost there." Lucy squeezed her hand in response, her labored breathing in the frigid air creating an omnipresent smoky cloud in front of her face.

They hurried as best they could along the forest path. The Wolves had fallen silent; the only sounds now were their sharp gasps for breath and their shuffling feet in the powdery snow. Susan glanced around constantly to be sure they weren't being watched. Though of course, it was hard to tell—it seemed as if one was always being watched, here. The freezing air was heavy and oppressive and the ranks of trees lining the road seemed menacingly vigilant. This tyrannical Narnian queen seemed to enjoy an atmosphere that perpetually wavered between unspoken threats and outright violence. It certainly didn't take much to move from the former to the latter.

Susan hated every moment she had to spend here. She hated her brother for doing this to them.

It seemed to take ages, but finally they reached a certain boulder that had been pushed strategically to a certain place next to the road. Once past it, Susan began counting the pine trees.

"Fourth one…on the right…"

They reached the correct tree and hurried up to it, each of them placing both hands above a knot in the enormous trunk. Susan pounded methodically on the rough bark with both palms, three times.

After a moment, three responding thumps came from inside.

"In the name of the Great Lion, I bid you let us enter," Susan called the entry phrase softly into the tree. "For we serve no one but him; there is none else beside him."

At her words, a hidden door in the tree swung open to reveal the Badger on guard.

"Quickly, my Queens!" the Badger beckoned frantically. "Inside, inside!"

Susan pushed Lucy through first, then ducked inside herself. She started brushing the snow off Lucy's skirt and her own.

Once the door was fastened, the Badger waddled closer to them, beaming. Now that Susan looked at him more closely, she noticed that one side of his face was slightly distorted. Something clenched inside her chest.

_My God, is there anybody who hasn't been mangled by these terrible wolves?_

"Welcome back, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy! I am so glad you have returned! It's been years! Some feared—" the Badger dropped his voice. "Some feared you wouldn't be coming back! I told them they were wrong!" His mouth stretched wide in a happy grin, making his long-snouted face look even more lopsided.

Susan smiled at the steadfast Badger, but she did wish that he—and all the other rebel Narnians, for that matter—would stop referring to her and her family as royalty. Edmund, running around as the White Witch's prince, was really the only one who could be considered royal. The rest of them were only there because of him—if he hadn't decided to stay, there would be no reason for them to remain, either. What was Narnia to them? This wasn't their fight.

"Well, we have returned," she said, trying to sound pleasant and keep the grudging tone out of her voice. "Peter should be somewhere behind us—he lingered for a bit in Lantern Waste to make sure we wouldn't be followed."

The Badger looked worried.

"I heard the calls of the Pack," he fretted, the hair around his neck standing up stiffly. "How close were they behind you?"

"Closer than I'd like," Lucy declared with a shudder.

"Peter can take care of himself," Susan said, knowing why the Badger was worried. "He hasn't evaded the wolves for this long just because he was lucky."

The Badger appeared mollified. "I have absolute faith in the High King," he declared, the use of the title sending another flash of annoyance through Susan. "In the meantime, why don't you head underground? I know Mrs. Beaver has been preparing an absolutely marvelous stew. You must try it—especially after your long, cold walk in the snow! Go on, go on!" He pressed his little paws into the smalls of their backs when they didn't move fast enough. Susan took Lucy by the hand and, both of them giggling at the Badger's exuberant insistence, they made their way further belowground.

The moment they entered the enormous underground chamber, Susan and Lucy were met with a joyful cry.

"Queen Susan! Queen Lucy!"

Before they could even blink, both Susan and Lucy were bombarded with cheers, barks, caws, honks, and other demonstrations of pure joy from the rebel Narnians. Dogs, Cats, Squirrels, Lemurs, and other fluffy Animals crowded around their legs while several Birds flapped disconcertingly close to their heads. A few big Cats stood patiently waiting to greet them. Susan was even surprised to see a group of Centaurs standing around the enormous table used to plan raids against the Witch.

"There are so many of you here!" Lucy exclaimed, bending down to cuddle the Dogs, who yapped and licked her face joyfully.

"We've gathered to plan another raid," came a familiar voice and Susan turned joyfully to greet Mrs. Beaver, who was approaching. Once she reached the two sisters, she took Susan's hand between her two little paws. Susan felt a rush of affection for the lady Beaver who had rescued them from the Wolf that had crippled Lucy.

"I'm so glad to see you well, Mrs. Beaver!" _Thank God the Wolves haven't gotten you, too._

"We are overjoyed to see you return, your Majesty," Mrs. Beaver sniffed, releasing Susan's hand and swiping at her eyes. "Aslan has remained hidden from us, and when neither of you Queens nor the High King returned—well, we feared it was over for us. Once the Songbird came with the news that he'd spotted you near the Lamppost a few days ago, we gathered immediately to start planning."

Susan felt a strong surge of emotion within her as she surveyed the room filled with Narnians. They were fighting against impossible odds—for who could hope to destroy a Witch Queen with unrivalled power? And with the Wolf Pack that was ready to commit any atrocious act at Jadis' bidding, Susan despaired of the Narnians ever being able to overcome their enemies. They needed help—she, Lucy, and Peter couldn't provide it…not since Edmund…

Where was this Aslan they all kept talking about?

Mrs. Beaver pulled them away from the exuberant crowd and led them over to the corner where she had been preparing the stew. She ladled out two generous helpings, chattering all the while. Susan helped Lucy settle comfortably on the floor before taking the bowl of stew Mrs. Beaver offered her.

"Mr. Beaver just caught an entire basketful of fish for this stew, it was just so risky of him—the Wolves have been out more and more often, you know. He went back out to scout around, it's a marvel the Wolves haven't been able to trace us here. It's a definite sign that Aslan's watching over us."

But Susan had other suspicions.

"Mrs. Beaver—have any of the rebels had contact with Edmund?"

Mrs. Beaver seemed a little uncomfortable.

"Well, of course he's seen, dear. And some do communicate with him, I believe. But we can't always be sure—he _is_ with the Witch most of the time."

"Do you know—" Susan swallowed, finding it hard to force the words past her throat. "Does he seem—I mean, is he—"

"He's alive and kicking, dear, last I saw," said Mrs. Beaver gently. "Beyond that, I really couldn't say." She put a comforting paw on Susan's arm and nudged her stew bowl lightly with the other. "Now you just eat that and get warm," she said. "I have to see whether Mr. Beaver has returned." With that, she bustled off.

Susan and Lucy ate in silence for a few moments.

"D'you think Peter will see him this time? D'you think he'll get him to come back with him?"

"I don't know, Lucy."

"Do you think he wants to come back?"

"Could we please talk about something other than Edmund?"

Silence fell between them again, except for the scraping of their wooden spoons against their bowls.

"I didn't know we'd be gone for so long this time," Lucy said, sounding miserable. She scooped up a potato, then overturned her spoon so that the vegetable fell back into the broth with a soft _plop_. "They're all so excited to see us—they really thought we'd abandoned them. Su—" she looked up sharply, suddenly distressed. "Do you think Edmund thinks we've abandoned _him_?"

Susan sighed. Discussing Edmund seemed inevitable. "He's the one that keeps refusing to come back with us, Lucy."

Her little sister was quiet for a minute.

"How old do you think he is now?"

Susan rolled her eyes as she blew on a spoonful of stew to cool it. "What are you talking about? He's twelve—just a year older than you."

"But we've been gone for years," Lucy reminded her. "Edmund's been here this whole time—so wouldn't he be a lot older than me, now?"

Susan stared at her little sister, shocked. Somehow, despite knowing that they had been away from Narnia for years—only a few days, in England—she hadn't thought of the time difference affecting Edmund. What if he _was_ older? What if he was older than her? Than Peter?

Her throat grew tight and she swallowed hard. The White Witch had made him into a prince, the Narnians in turn had made him a secret rebel, and the land of Narnia itself was pushing him ever faster toward manhood. Was her brother still the same person she had grown up with? Would she even know him anymore if she saw him?

She felt a surge of anger. What was Narnia turning them into?

"The snow's stopped!" Beaver skidded into the cavern, closely followed by Mrs. Beaver, who was trying to brush the snow off him. Beaver shook himself to dislodge the clumps of snow clinging to his fur. "The sun's just peekin' out from behind the clouds! Now's the time to go meet Aslan!"

"I thought you said he wasn't here," Susan protested, surprised at Mr. Beaver's announcement.

He looked confused. "I never said such a thing. He's always here."

"Then why couldn't we meet him before?" Lucy asked as she accepted Susan's helping hand to get to her feet.

"Well, you see Him best in the sun, dear," Mrs. Beaver answered as though it were obvious.

At Beaver's announcement, there was a great scramble to get above ground. It had to be done carefully, with staggered departures and with some taking the rougher back tunnels that had been dug for air. Susan and Lucy kept close to Mrs. Beaver.

Out once again in the crisp, cold air, they followed Mrs. Beaver straight through the middle of the forest. Susan looked nervously around them, fearing an ambush from the Wolves. Lucy seemed to be thinking the same thing because it felt as if she were cutting off the circulation in Susan's hand.

On the edge of an enormous clearing, Susan stopped dead. Her breath caught in her throat.

At the center of the open space stood an absolutely enormous golden Lion. His lustrous fur shone in the newly emerged sun, and His face, surrounded by a mane that seemed as thick as the ocean was deep, was terrible and beautiful all at once. She fell to her knees at the sight of Him, as all the other Narnians flung themselves on their faces.

He was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. Surely now, they were saved.

"Aslan, Aslan," the Narnians all around them chanted. "You are faithful, for you have come at our cries."

There was no response from the Lion, but the Narnians continued to chant their praise. After a moment Susan looked up, but the Lion was as still as ever.

Something was wrong. Lucy saw it too.

"Susan…" she whispered, the shock and disappoint in her voice overwhelming.

"I don't _believe_ it," Susan whispered back, unable to tear her eyes from the sight. Now she understood why this Aslan had done nothing. Now she understood why they had had to wait for the sun to come out—one could still tell, but it was less obvious with the sun shining:

Aslan was only a statue.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear any thoughts, comments, questions, critiques, etc. :)


	3. Steadfast Remembrance

**And None Else Beside Me**

**by: mokatster**

_Chapter Three: Steadfast Remembrance _

A/N: Really short chapter this time, but consider it a bonus because it wasn't part of the original plan! :)

* * *

"I know it's risky, Beaver, but I've wanted a trout for _days_," Badger licked his chops. "Couldn't you take someone with you and go catch some?"

Beaver chuckled. "Badger, mate, you need to change your name. You're more Beaver now than ever before."

"That's beside the point. Will you go fishing or not?"

His friend hesitated, but Badger knew that Beaver wanted fish even more than he did. Digging for insects in the frozen soil and gnawing on twigs was only tolerable for so long. "You're sure?"

"Don't be so paranoid," Badger waved Beaver away impatiently. "I'll be fine by myself." He gestured toward his mutilated face. "I survived them once; if need be, I'll survive again."

Beaver clasped paws briefly with his best friend before scuffling off through the snow, taking pains to swipe his tail behind him to erase the prints he left behind. Badger watched until he disappeared, smiling contentedly at the thought of more of Mrs. Beaver's fish stew that evening. Despite Beaver's teasing, he had to admit that his friend had a point. Mama Badger probably would have been absolutely disgusted with her cub's dietary habits as of late.

He sighed a snuffly sort of sigh as he sat crouched beneath an especially dense patch of undergrowth, keeping his eyes open and ears perked for any unwelcome sound—particularly that of approaching Wolves. Even though his mother would have been a little dismayed, Badger had a feeling she would understand. Her life—even though it, too, was during the reign of the White Witch—had not been as terrifying as his. Jadis seemed to be persecuting Narnians now more than ever. The kings and queens of the Prophecy had arrived, but this seemed only to encourage further attacks. Indeed, despite his outward professions of faith in the Four, Badger sometimes found himself guiltily yearning for the days when the Prophecy had just been a whimsical hope and not physical reality.

Their only real hope was in Aslan.

All his life, he'd heard stories of the Great Lion. His mother had impressed on him that solemn duty that was upon all Badgers, also known as the Steadfast Beasts: remembering. And though he had never seen Aslan for himself, Badger remembered who and what He was.

He knew the being—the _statue—_in the forest was not Aslan.

But what could he say? The other Narnians were so convinced that it was He. Whenever the sun peeped out from behind the clouds, they would all rush to the false lion and beg for help, for deliverance from the White Witch and her snowy plague. Badger ran with them, but he refused to offer his own petitions. He wrestled with himself constantly, for he knew he should tell the others that this lion was incapable of help. Would they take his claim as treason? Would they leave him for the Wolves? He knew that Narnia was not as it had once been—being a talking Beast was no longer a sufficient claim to being a true Narnian. Any suspicion of divergence in opinion or attitude was taken very seriously—perhaps too seriously.

Jadis was not destroying Narnia by subjecting them to endless years of snow and ice; she was doing it by turning them against each other. It was happening subtly, slowly—but it was happening. It had begun with the Wolves, when she lured them over to her side. The Wolves had been considered some of the most loyal Beasts—if she could corrupt them and turn them away from Aslan and the other Beasts, were the rest of the Narnians safe?

Badger shuddered to himself. He knew he was right about Aslan, and about Narnia—but that wasn't enough. For what is the purpose of remembering, if what you remember you keep to yourself?

Could he even call himself a true Narnian, loyal to Aslan, if he failed in the one duty that had been entrusted to his species since the Beginning?

He straightened suddenly, decided. He would _not_ fail in his duty to Narnia and to the true Aslan. He would tell the others the truth. Now.

If he hadn't been so preoccupied with his troubled thoughts he would have heard them. As it was, a snarl was the only warning he had before the Wolves were upon him.

* * *

A/N: The idea of Beaver and Badger being such good chums came from the LWW movie. Also, I found that Badgers don't really eat fish...but that made the scenario in the beginning a bit more amusing.

The last chapter to this story is already written and should be up in a few days! Thanks so much for reading, and for all the lovely reviews and comments! I really appreciate it! :)


	4. Chances

**And None Else Beside Me**

**by: mokatster**

_Chapter Four: Chances_

A/N: Last chapter (really)! If it seems a bit rushed, it's because the events within happen quite suddenly--it was written that way deliberately.

* * *

Jadis kept her face impassive as the Wolves dragged the Badger into the throne room by his throat. Inside, however, she felt a distinct sense of satisfaction.

She had been chipping away at the weakening resistance of the rebel Narnians bit by bit. Begging for help from that statue she'd planted in the forest kept them from actively resisting her and ensured that they merely survived—every day in increasing despair. And now that both Sons of Adam were nothing but stone, the Prophecy was half destroyed. The moment they discovered their loss, the Narnians would become even less resistant to her icy fist.

She fought the urge to curl her lips into a smile. Yes, Narnia was hers. Completely. Perhaps she had been foolish to fear that the Prophecy actually posed a legitimate threat to her.

The Wolves tossed the Badger—who, to his credit, didn't yelp—at the foot of the dais and retreated. Jadis rose and glided nearer, looking down at the Badger from her formidable height. She noted the distortion on the side of his face with slight interest—this one had been caught once before.

She wondered why they kept running; those caught once were always caught again.

"Where are you hiding the Daughters of Eve?" Her voice rang throughout the hall, and she was pleased to see the Badger cower, though he obviously made an effort not to.

But he didn't answer.

"I will find them," she promised, and the underlying menace in her voice made it a threat. "You are only prolonging the suffering of your people by refusing to comply." She stepped even closer, felt a rush of satisfaction when the Badger shuddered at her movement. "You will make it much worse for yourself. I _will_ learn what I want to know."

The Badger visibly steeled himself, and Jadis was outraged to see a new emotion replace the fear in his eyes.

Defiance.

"You will not win," he declared, and his voice was steady. "Aslan is with us. The Great Lion has us all between His paws—and _you _will be subject to _Him_ in the end."

The horrid name burned through Jadis' mind just as a Charnian slave brand scalded the skin. But her anger flared hotter. She extended her wand out in a fierce jab, placing the tip on the Badger's head.

At once, a flood of images rushed through her mind. The Badger's entire pathetic life flashed before her eyes.

Her mind focused on one particular thought, a recently concocted plan. There. They were planning a raid. The youngest Queen—already crippled, she noted—was to go with them.

She raised the wand. The Badger slumped forward to the ground, panting. He looked up at her, his eyes glazed with the pain of having his mind violated so viciously and thoroughly. The defiance was gone.

"Thank you, Badger," she murmured. This time, she allowed her lips to curl into a smile as she brought her wand down with a sharp movement. Her collection was growing at quite a rate.

* * *

It had been hours.

Susan heaved yet another sigh. Lucy had insisted on going with one of the Centaurs for reconnaissance. She couldn't understand why the Centaur had agreed—her sister couldn't move very fast, after all—or why Lucy had even wanted to go. What's more, what was only supposed to take until lunchtime had lasted all day. Susan paced around the underground chamber, unable to think of anything else.

Where was her sister?

At last, at long last, she heard the tramping, stamping, snorting, and shaking of the various Animals that had left that morning coming in out of the snow. She hurried to meet them. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of their despondent faces and hollow eyes. Her eyes scanned the group—was it smaller than before?—but she didn't see her sister. When she finally found her voice, it sounded strange.

"Where's Lucy?"

* * *

She ran.

They tried to stop her; a strong Centaur had even grabbed her arm, but Susan wrenched herself free and fled. She had no clear idea where she was going—she thought wildly of finding her sister, of saving her, because she _couldn't _be dead, she _couldn't _be—but after a few minutes she saw a warm light glowing out from the midst of the trees.

The Lamppost.

The way out was nearby. She was nearly there.

She skidded into the clearing, her chest heaving, the cold air searing her throat with each gasping breath. She looked toward the Lamppost gratefully, thankful for the light that had guided her back.

Her eyes caught two figures in the pool of light surrounding the post. That was strange—she'd never noticed them there before.

"He—hello?"

They were statues—so of course they didn't respond. Trembling, Susan crunched her way through the snow to look at them more closely. One was standing upright, while the other crouched behind him. She moved round to peer into their faces.

She stood still in the warm glow of the Lamppost, oblivious to the snow that had started to fall, as she stared into her brother's face.

"Peter?"

His eyes were wide, terrified. Susan had never seen him look like that before. She reached out hesitantly and touched his cheek with her fingertips.

Stone. He was stone.

Still, she didn't react. Her brain was numb with shock. Dazed, she turned her eyes to the other statue.

His face was familiar, but different. Edmund had grown to be older—he looked to be about Peter's age, actually. His eyes, too, were wide with fright.

They were dead. And it seemed as though Peter had died protecting Edmund, in spite of it all.

Suddenly, the truth crashed into her as ruthlessly and suddenly as a train wreck.

They were _dead_. They were _gone. _

Lucy.

Peter.

Edmund.

She fought fiercely against the wail building up in her throat, against the tears burning her eyes, against the horror flooding her mind. What was she going to do? She couldn't just go back and leave them here. But they had already left her. And she couldn't stay. She couldn't stay.

She stumbled backward away from the statues that had once been her brothers. Her vision blurry and her breaths shallow and gasping, she fled through the trees, back toward the wardrobe door. Maybe if she ran fast enough she could escape this, forget this, and she would be back in England with everything the way it used to be.

And then—He was there.

He appeared so suddenly she almost barreled into Him. She hastily retreated a few steps and stared at Him, appalled.

He was the real Lion. He was the one the Narnians had been yearning for all along—not that statue in the forest.

She gaped at Him for one long, terrible moment. But then she couldn't take it. He was too real. She couldn't look at Him. She shaded her eyes with a shaking hand and looked down at her feet.

After a minute or two, when He neither moved nor spoke, she somehow found enough courage to glance up again.

He stood directly in her path, His golden eyes looking down at her—_through_ her. She knew that at that moment, He knew her more completely than anyone ever had or ever would.

Susan trembled. She wanted to go around Him—to escape—but—

His eyes held hers. Then He spoke.

"Don't turn away." His voice was urgent, pleading.

Susan shifted her weight, hesitating. But she held His gaze.

* * *

A/N: I hope the tone of this didn't change too much...but I couldn't leave the ending completely hopeless! It all seems to hinge on what Susan decides at this moment...and just as her future is uncertain in the canon, it's uncertain here.

Thanks so much for reading, and for all the reviews! I really appreciate it! :)


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